Secret Loser
by Mister Pineapple
Summary: Death is not the worst thing that could happen, as the Yondaime learns the hard way.


This was actually started as a side plot I developed for Eclipse, but then my mind sidetracked and this one developed from the original and expanded on its own. Seeing as I'm a stickler for alternate universe stories, I'm thinking of making a short series of what-if's.

Naruto is not mine, but if it was, I still wouldn't change the story in any way, shape, or form.

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"Although he appears to be dead, the loser is king-"

-Secret Loser, by Ozzy Osbourne

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_It's funny how the one thing you think you have going for you is death. I mean, one moment you're expecting the black then the white then either reuniting with the divine being or being reborn in a new body, but then BAM_, _you're back to yourself._ _Geez, not even a measly out-of-body experience or even a shirt that says "I came thiiiiis close to death and all I got was this lousy T-shirt."_ _And did I mention the pain? Yeah, that's pretty excruciating._

_But..._

_I guess the most painful part_...

..._Is knowing how many others died while you yourself lived._

..._Is realizing that you kissed your loved ones goodbye thinking they would never see you alive again, when it turned out to be just the opposite._

..._Is seeing him alone, because of a fate you resigned him to._

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Immediately after the defeat of the Kyuubi, he realized something was wrong. Namely, the fact that he was still alive, since he had used _that_ technique. Not that he was complaining or anything, after all, how often can someone brag that death spared their life? But try as he might, he couldn't move his legs, arms, or even his neck. Breathing also turned into a chore.

What scared him the most was that his son, the pride and joy between him and his wife whom he had sealed the treacherous demon into, was laying in his arms, crying hysterically, and he couldn't do a thing about it. He couldn't shush him, or rock him, or even embrace him as he had imagined while the baby was still growing in his mother's womb.

_"Oh, wifey, wifey, can I have a slice of that watermelon you've hidden under your dress? Oh, wait, that's your stomach!" _Just under a week ago he had teased her, using that nickname that annoyed her to no end. Now he didn't even know if she was alive or not. Hopefully she was, because she was the one who knew the most about babies.

Little Naruto continued bawling, and worried as he was, the Yondaime let his thoughts wander. Some time passed before the surviving Anbu arrived, quickly accessing his injuries. After a short while, they devised a stretcher and carefully lifted him into it. Someone picked up his son, but... but...

"Where are you taking him?!" He tried lifting his arms toward the retreating masked figure who carried his son, but all they could do was flop around limply. What are they doing? Where were they taking him? What if they-? What if they-? He couldn't bear to think of the possibilities.

Even if they were his people, he could only hope to entrust them with the care of his demon-sealed son.

He went one way, to a hidden chamber. The child went elsewhere, in the opposite direction.

For a few days he slipped in and out of consciousness, waking only long enough to ask for his wife, for his son, for Kakashi, sometimes even for his mother.

Only when his recover was a sure thing did they tell him the truth: His wife was missing; presumed dead. Kakashi was steeped in recovery efforts. He was reminded that his mother had passed away years ago, his father an even longer time ago. And his son... his son was in safe hands. That was all they would tell him on that matter.

Their hesitance made him angry. It was his son, damn it! How could they keep his whereabouts hidden even from him, especially when the boy's mother was gone and the only thing left was his father?

_His failure of a father_, he added bitterly months later. As much progress as he was making, he still wasn't even the strength he was as a Gennin. What was wrong with him? His injuries were healed, and he gave it his all during therapy sessions. But just walking took a lot out of him, and when he wasn't using a cane he had the awkward gait of an old man. The doctors were just as confused. Sure, he had exhausted his chakra supply, but since he didn't die he should have recovered it already.

He could only assume it was Death's reminder of its unexpected gift of life.

_You can't expect no strings attached._

It came as no surprise when the village leaders finally told him that he was stripped of his duties as acting Hokage, and the role would be returned to the Third. That he could understand, because he was in no condition to look after other people, much less himself.

He figured at least he could be an ever present father to his son.

But that too, was denied. When he asked about his release date, his doctors could only shake their heads in pity. When he asked about allowing visitors, they calmly informed him that he was dead.

Now that, of course, came as the biggest shock of his life. The last time he had noticed, his heart monitor had beat steadily and the doctors usually checked his pulse and took blood with no problems.

Upon the look on his face, the doctors hurriedly explained that for political reasons, he had been listed among the casualties of the Kyuubi attack.

"Be glad you died a hero." They said, their eyes sympathetic.

Many days later, after the village started showing signs of repair, he watched his own memorial parade from the small window high up in the complex hidden within the Hokage Mountain.

_Funny, _he thought, _how being a hero doesn't feel much different from being a prisoner._

At the front of the line was his coffin, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was anything in there. The gathering was large, everyone from elite families to simple villagers gathering to mourn. He watched them all, recognizing many of the faces. As the procession neared its end, a low hissing came from the crowd. The heated murmur rose steadily in its pitch, becoming a tremorous sound of discontent. Confused, the dead man stared at the object of their outrage. The Third calmly walked at the end of the line, surrounded by an entourage of weary Anbu, Kakashi among them. Nestled securely in the Sandaime's arms was a carefully wrapped bundle, a mop of blonde hair peeking out.

The elderly man looked up, catching his eyes even at a distance. His message was clear.

_They hate him._ He realized, dazed.

He couldn't watch any more. He lay back down on his bed just as Kakashi glanced up in the direction the Third was staring at. The white-haired youth saw nothing but frozen stone faces calmly watching over them.

Years passed, people neither forgot nor forgave. The Yondaime stuck to his daily regiment of therapy, but never grew stronger. The time he didn't spend on recovery was spent staring out various concealed windows in his secret lair and battling endless bouts of loneliness. He blankly observed the outside world, seemingly alert only whenever boys of a young age and bright hair colour passed below him. He didn't know what face to look for, but any one of those boys could be his.

He was a man of sunshine, action, and a people person. The lack of all three made his hair limp and his face pale and withdrawn, his frame slowly withered. He rarely smiled, even in the presence of his doctors, high ranking medics who had sworn secrecy under pain of death.

After seven years, he was no longer recognizable as the man he once was. He still knew the going-ons of the village, because the one visitor he was allowed happened to be the Third. However, what with a village to govern and a recently orphaned grandson and a chain-smoking nephew competing for his attention, the old man rarely had time for social obligations towards a man everyone thought was dead. Yet after a visit from the Sandaime, the Yondaime knew just as much as the others, if not more. That was how he found out about Orochimaru's deceit, the Hyuuga family's continued use of their curse seal, and even the intimate details of the Uchiha Clan massacre. He knew things so thoroughly, it was as though he witnessed them with his own eyes. Yet he remained locked away for his own safety.

At ten years, an unexpected windfall: He was allowed outside, even if just for a short time and a limited area, without guards or doctors. His first time outside in years was spent on top of his mountain home, in a secluded spot few even knew about.

It was heaven in more ways than one.

After some time of idly staring at the sky and breathing in fresh air, he became aware of a soft sobbing originating from somewhere a little ways off. Looking left and right, just to make sure he wasn't under surveillance, he slowly picked himself up, and leaning on his cane, carefully made his way towards the crying person.

He had never seen his face beyond the red-tinged-wrinkly-skinned stage of a newborn, never heard his voice other than a typical baby wail. The most time he had ever spent with him was when he sealed that dreaded monster.

But, nonetheless, he recognized that crying boy. Hunched over, his hands fisted and wiping at his eyes, a battered and over-stuffed school bag weighing him down, and quaking with an unknown fury, this boy was no doubt his son.

The second hand clothes, worn shoes, and dirt and scrapes covering the boy spoke volumes of the boy's treatment.

He knew of Yondaime's Law, the rule the Third had passed in his name. It was the law that sealed Naruto's secret, ensuring that none of his peers found out. He also knew that although they weren't allowed to tell, the adults held nothing but contempt for the boy, save for a few who had the good grace of understanding. The Sandaime could only do so much.

For the first time since their unwilling separation, father and son were together. But only one knew of their relationship. One step, then another, he tried to get to the boy's side faster, but his damned body refused to quicken its speed.

Screw secrecy. Screw laws. Screw everything political. Screw everyone and everything that thought it knew what was best for the both of them. He only wanted to embrace his son and soothe his troubles away, as he should have been doing all along.

_Crunch._

A dry leaf crumbled under his foot, alerting the boy to his presence. The small blonde head jerked up, revealing whisker scars, a tear streaked face, and familiar eyes. Pained and vulnerable, but only for a minute. As quick as could be, that whiskered face rearranged itself into a smile, the eyes scrunched, guarding their open secrets.

"What do you want?" The boy inquired, defensive as can be.

The man stared, unable to make his mouth work. After all the time he had spent carefully planning words and speeches, and imagining heart-clenching meetings, he was finally face to face with his son. Just hearing that voice wiped away any thoughts of what to say or do. Basically, he was frozen in place.

His cane clattered from his loose grip, and his knees chose to give out. Mouth opened in unexpected surprise, he fell forward, only to be caught by the smaller person.

"Hey, hey- Mister- You should be more careful if you're injured." The boy squeaked under the combined weight of the man and his homework.

_I'm no "Mister", I'm your father!_

__Carefully shifting, the boy managed to help the man take a seat on a boulder. A few minutes of silence passed between them, the boy shifting uncomfortably, shying away from the man's open stare.

"Um, it's getting late. I probably should go-" Naruto trailed off, backing away before turning and slowly making his way to the staircase that lead back down to the village.

"Wait." Was all the man wanted to say, but all that came out was a strained croak. The boy stopped and turned back for a minute, but the man's voice kept betraying him, and all he could do was give the boy a pleading look. Confused, and more than a little nervous, the boy continued on his way.

When his guard finally found him around sunset, the Fourth was sitting on a landing on the staircase, about halfway down to the village. Out of breath, he was holding onto the railing, trying to continue down the stairs by scooting down one step at a time. Who knew how long he had been at it, but he was laughing and crying at the same time. The Anbu dutifully notified his superiors, and the man was restricted to bed rest for three weeks before being allowed outside again.

He continued his therapy with renewed vigor, although with very little success.

At twelve years, he was informed that his son knew the truth. For a whole week he stared expectantly at his bedroom door, waiting for that special blonde-haired visitor, until he realized that him being alive was not a part of that truth. What remained of his spirit drooped.

That traitorous Mizuki was brought before him, and with a vengeance he would never regret, he was allowed the killing blow. The years of pent-up frustration and failure gave him strength to deliver a clean sword strike.

And all Mizuki could do was stare, impervious to his own coming death because the man before him was alive.

The next day he was told of his son's graduation, and given the boy's ninja roster photo, the original of the one Naruto had been forced to re-take. Staring at that picture, the only one of the boy he had ever been given, he felt a belated sense of pride swell within. He knew of all the boy's previous failures, and felt pain from each one, because he should have been there to comfort and teach him. As goofy as the picture looked, what with that makeup and ridiculous pose, he kept it pocketed close to his heart.. Within weeks it was worn at the edges from constantly being handled and stared at.

Another windfall, and in such short time: A few months after the Mizuki incident, he was allowed into town for a short time as long as he was physically disguised. He didn't need to mask his chakra, it was so screwed up and weak as to be unrecognizable.

Dressed in a soft robe, cane in hand, his eye tone and hair colour changed by a small genjutsu, he marveled being within the crowd, used to looking down upon them, not meandering among them.

An unexpected meeting: Right outside a seedy bookstore, he ran into a masked, silver-haired man.

"Oh- sorry sir." The man drawled lightly, helping him steady his balance. The Yondaime stared, unable to place that face, when it suddenly hit him. Of, course! That hair! That lazy eye! That perverseness! Kakashi had grown into a man without his guidance, grown to actually be taller than himself.

Before he realized it, the ninja was gone, disappearing into the crowd, his nose stuck in a book.

But that was the least of his surprises that day. A few hours later, he ducked into a ramen stall, hoping to catch a glimpse of his boy. According to his sources, the boy usually spent his lunch break devouring bowl after bowl of the salty broth. But, after a fruitless hour of waiting, he admitted defeat and continued his walk about town.

Had he known exactly which restaurant the boy frequented, he would have been more prepared when he actually did find him. In fact, not only did he find his son, he found the boy's whole team, minus their instructor. He had sat on a bench outside a low and slightly shabby building, trying to catch his breath, when the boy ducked out of the doorway, followed by two others.

The boy stretched before plopping down right beside him on the small bench, uncaring of the fact that they were pretty much sidled up next to each other. His girl teammate growled something about respect of personal space, but Naruto stuck his tongue out in reply.

"Ah- Sakura-chan, you need to let your body rest after a big meal! Right, old man?" He directed his question at the man, grinning right into his face.

Mute, he could only nod and grin. The boy rewarded him with an even bigger smile before being bopped over the head by the girl.

"Hey, Dobe, lunch is almost over." His black-haired teammate muttered, turning his back. The girl was instantly at his side, and Naruto made to follow them.

"Wait." The Fourth uttered, grabbing hold of his son's wrist. Surprised, the boy was a bit taken aback. The other two stopped and stared.

"You- you're Uzumaki Naruto, aren't you?"

The boy looked pensive, but nodded anyway. "What's it to you?" Normally such words were harsh, but he asked them quietly, something akin to vague familiarity sparking in his eyes.

"I'm your- I'm your-" Unable to get the words out, he gripped the boy's wrist harder. Naruto winced, trying to pull back. In a flash the black-haired boy was at his side, roughly pulling the older man's hand off the blonde and pushing the younger boy behind him. He regarded the man coldly.

"Do you know this man, Naruto?"

"N-no." The blonde shook his head, but his voice didn't sound sure of itself. Before anything more could be said or done, Naruto was steered off by the shoulder. As he was dragged away, he looked back at the man, frowning in confusion.

And all he could do was stare back.

"Sir? It's time for you to go home." The Fourth broke his gaze from the boy, finding his guard standing beside him.

"Ah. I am feeling tired." He murmured in acknowledgment. Bracing himself, he stood up and balanced himself on his walking stick. The two made their way back to the mountain and hidden entrance in companionable silence.

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Hmm- I'm not sure I'm happy just leaving this as is. Perhaps I should add on a second chapter? There was another part I wanted to write in, but I'm not sure- I kind of like it as is (talk about an oxymoron!)...

As I wrote above, Eclipse was originally going to have to the Fourth live, because he never gave his life to seal Kyuubi, but he was injured pretty bad and had to retire as Hokage. But since Eclipse is generally a Peter Pan-esque story, I decided to sever all of Naruto's connections to Konoha. Then again, I might just write that part back in.

Wow, this is probably the longest one-shot I've ever written. Honestly, started this months ago, but then I kind of forgot about it. I blame it on the fact that I give my files strange and often misleading titles. But luckily, I rediscovered this and dozens of other unfinished fics while organizing my documents folder. One of my favorites being: "How Tsunade got her Boobs Back." My second favorite is one I've been working on steadily for months, called "Academic Probation." I started it before even Eclipse and Vogue. Look forward to them!

There are some strange things in this world:

http:side-b.jp/mko/htm/odori.htm

(http double dot slash slash side-b.jp/mko/htm/odori.htm)


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